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Cassette 8: Awareness, Eyes/Transcript
This is the official transcript for the episode which can also be accessed for free at'' patreon.com/withinthewires'' Welcome to cassette two of the Extensive Studies Preparation programme. By now you should be recovered, mostly, from your first experiences in the Extensive studies lab. I just want to say, I’m so … pause mic, to self, writing a note: Mark track for deletion, time stamp zero-zero-four normal The tasks that are required of you here are demanding, and you need rest between each one, you need time to rest and to heal and to think about what led to you being there, and how it could have been avoided and how, in reality, it was unavoidable given who you were and the state of the world, and how there is no need to apportion blame to anyone, as nothing is unavoidable. Forgiveness is important. Breathe. In. And out. Listening carefully to these cassettes and implementing what you learn, will help ensure that your recovery time is as productive as possible, and you are ready for your next session. Listen. Practice. Implement. If you listen carefully to my voice, if you practice what I tell you, if you can keep your mind about you enough to implement these instructions in each Extensive Studies Session, you should not come to harm. You should not come to too much further harm. Cassette Two, Side A - All Eyes On You # # # Stand alone in your locked room. Know that you are unobserved, as no one is observed here. Stand with the wall to your back. Feel the coolness of the wall against your head and your shoulders. Breathe. In and out. Quickly, three breaths at a time. In out, in out, in out. And again, in out, in out, in out. Feel your shoes on your feet. You are not wearing them now, you are not wearing anything now, but you remember what it was like to wear them. Solid running shoes with thick rubber soles, laced securely on your feet. Shoes that are currently on the floor of a house you have not seen in several months. They are where you last left them. Everything is where you last left it. As you stand against the wall your back naked and cool against the concrete, begin rocking your feet backwards and forwards. Feel your weight moving from your heels to your toes. And back. Heels. Toes. Heels. Toes. Breathe. In, out, in out, in out. Remember your feet in your solid running shoes, moving along concrete and grass. Heels. Toes. Heels. Toes. Feel the pounding in your heart, the tightness in your chest as you run, feel the exhilaration of the movement. This is just a memory, but you can remember it with your whole body. As your feet, now bare, now stuck in one place, rock from heel to toe, let them remember their past. Feel your feet, clad in worn socks and solid shoes, moving you through space, rock from heel to toe, unaware of their future. Heels. Toes. Think about the park you used to run through. There was someone there as you ran. There was someone there every day, when you ran, although they did not run. They watched you. They occasionally still get to watch you. The someone sat on a bench for a while, coffee in hand. After some time they stood up and started walking along the same path as you, except in the opposite direction. As you ran, they walked, and as you passed each other, the someone looked and smiled. Every day, you ran and she walked, and as you passed, she looked and smiled. And then one day you looked and smiled back. So many miles run and walked with looks and smiles. And then, after a while, as she looked and smiled, this someone in the park said, ‘hi.’ ‘Hi,’ she said, quietly, casually, as if it was the least important word in the universe. Hers was a trustworthy voice. ‘Hi.’ And then you looked and smiled and said,’hi,’ back. And after many miles run and walked, and many looks and smiles, and many sayings of ‘hi’ you would happen to see this someone outside the park, queueing in the place you always got your coffee, and you would say ‘hi’ in the coffee shop now, in addition to the park where you ran. In the queue, you noticed that she had blue eyes. In the queue, she asked if you ran marathons. She asked what you did for a living. She asked if you had a dog. She asked if you liked a medium roast coffee. She asked if you had read that book yet? (You were holding a copy of A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin) And the next time in the coffee shop, the blue-eyed woman told you she started reading A Wizard of Earthsea, and you had a long conversation about science fiction and fantasy literature. You asked the sociable woman with blue eyes her name. She lied to you, but you did not seem to notice. You didn’t seem to remember ever knowing her before. You seemed charmed by a woman who smiled and nodded and read science fiction and liked medium roast coffee with steamed milk. She was charmed by you, even if she told you the wrong name. Even if she already knew you before the nods, smiles, and Hi’s in the park. And then the blue-eyed woman who did not at that moment go by the name Hester asked very quietly where where you grew up. And without a pause, you said you did not know. Because of course you did not know. The Sessions and the Regimen removed all of that knowing. The blue-eyed woman who did not go by the name Hester placed her hand on yours. It was the first, and last, time she would have a chance to do this. She asked, are you sure you don’t remember? She seemed disappointed, but not as disappointed as she actually was. You seemed frightened, but not as frightened as you actually were. You told her you had a to go, and you did. You remembered another woman, your sister. You remembered you had a dinner with your sister. And you could not say ‘sister’ aloud, for fear you would reveal something… of interest. So you said “I’m late. I have to meet someone. I’m sorry.” You stood, and everyone else in the coffee shop moved in a slower time. Envision the coffee shop as you left it. Envision the other patrons in the shop, moving in slower time, their mouths slightly ajar, letting in the wind, some boldly-stroked with maroon lip liner. Envision the two people on the sidewalk smoking cigarettes and wearing sunglasses. Envision an unpleasant dog with them. Envision them following you to your dinner. Envision the blue-eyed woman with her empty hands and jealous misinterpretation wondering who it is you were going to meet. Envision her following, too. In her remembrance of you, she was determined to know you again, to talk to you again, to see you every day, again. She knew you, remembered you, and in re-meeting a stranger, she had but short moments in queues and along running paths to deceive you into more, longer moments. Moments that could lead to a complete reconstruction of the love and friendship and trust the two of us- you. The two of you once had. And so she had gone to the park, and she walked towards you as you ran, and she looked and smiled and said ‘hi’ and she hoped. She had gone to a coffee shop. She hoped that you would recognise her, she hoped that the memories you once had of her would fill you up, as if they had never been gone, she hoped that you would see her, properly, as no one had seen her since she had turned ten. She didn’t want to have to tell you what she had remembered. She wanted you to remember too, all on your own. But you did not. And so she lied, in order to rebuild. She lied to you, and then she kept talking to you - she made small talk as if you were just any stranger from any park, in any coffee queue in the world. Do you think she should have told you the truth? What would you have done? Would you have wanted to talk to her again? Would you have asked her for dinner, maybe, instead of just saying goodbye and walking away. As if she was the least important person in the world. Feel your feet in your solid running shoes as you walk away from me. The wall of your cell is no longer cool against your back. Your body has warmed it as you have rocked backwards and forwards on your feet. Heels. Toes. Heels. Toes. Stop rocking on your feet, and relax your breathing. Breathe. In. Out. Before continuing to side B think about all the things people have said to you and wonder whether they were really true. Think about why someone would lie. END SIDE A # # # Before we begin side B, I would like to apologise for lying to you that day in the coffee shop. If you are upset that I lied to you, then I am sorry. If you wish that I had told you what I remembered about you, then I am sorry I did not. It is perhaps unfair to try and meet someone, as if for the first time, with so much knowledge about them. It is perhaps unfair to know someone so well when you are a complete mystery to them. If that is how you feel about things, then I am sorry. The Security Team will not let me see you. I have not asked. Not because I do not want to ask, but because it would be… interesting… for the person who records tapes to ask about the well-being of a patient in the Extensive Studies Lab. Your medical records show you will recover. In time. I am sorry for that as well. We are going to do another visualisation exercise now, but for this visualisation exercise, it is important to prepare your body. Do this physical exercise every day, as often as you can, for your next Extensive Studies session. You will need stamina. Cassette Two, Side B - The Likeness of Strangers Lie flat on your chest. Place your palms on the floor and lift your body, a simple push-up. Relax your feet, but keep your knees straight. Do not lower your body. Breathe. In. And Out. Normally at this point, before we start a visualisation exercise, I would ask you to close your eyes. This time I will not. This time it would be unreasonable for me to ask you to close your eyes. Just keep your body straight and elevated. Do not think about the strain in your arms, your chest. Your lungs. Instead you will have to do your best to ignore the gleaming, hard, white floor of your small, bare room. You will have to ignore the door, with its food slot, and the single, yellow light bulb. You will have to ignore your quivering muscles and tightened breaths. This visualisation exercise should be easy for you, for again, it is a memory. You are sitting at a table, outside a small cafe. You have books open in front of you, and you read them. You write down what you read. As you study, you are perfectly still, except for one foot. One foot which moves on its own, off on its own adventures, dancing down pathways. As you study, you look up for what was supposed to be just a moment. But you see someone. Someone who looks like you, but not quite. Someone just a few years older than you, with the same nose. You have noticed that she is always at this particular cafe at this particular time on this particular day of the week. You have been at this particular cafe, at this particular time, on this particular day of the week for more than one month now, and in that time, you have looked up and seen and wondered. This time, you will talk. This time you will talk for the first time. You will talk to her for what she believes is the first time. As she walks past, you intentionally slide a book off the table to look accidental, and it lands with a crash. The woman picks it up, and you say, ‘thanks,’ quietly, casually, as if it’s the least important word in the world. She comments on the book - it is a book about electricity, it is complicated and difficult, and she knows it. She asks you what you are studying, and tells you she studied something like that. Something similar, but different. The coffee shop is full, so you offer her a seat. She sits down at the table with you. You make small talk, as if she is any stranger, in any cafe, anywhere in the world. You do not tell her about the memories that were missing, but have now filled you up as if they were never gone. You find that you still know how to make your sister laugh. Are you breathing? Is your body aloft. Are your arms shaking? Did you empathetically laugh just now with the memory of your sister’s laugh? Is this painful? Holding yourself up for so long? Steady yourself. It will get worse. Breathe. In. And out. Picture your sister’s face, as you talk to her, and she talks back. Remember the name you told her was your own, and how that name was not “Oleta.” Hear her voice - envision the sound of her voice - as she tells you about her life. She studied at the same school you were studying at. She works with electricity, too, but also with music, with cords and dials, with beats and melodies. With complicated algorithms and thrumming bass. She has an apartment. She lives alone, at the moment, but that could change. She does not yet know if she wants it too. She likes living here, as do you. You talk and you talk, and you make plans for another day, and on that day, you talk and you talk again. She is surprised by how well you seem to understand her, by how much you seem to intuitively guess about who she is. She feels comfortable with you in a way she has not felt before. Not that she can remember, anyway. You do not tell her why you know her so well. You lie in order to rebuild these memories anew. You do not tell her about the memories that fill you. It is not known if you eventually plan to tell her of those memories. Lies are difficult to replace without people noticing. You do not tell her you are her sister. In the end, she will hear that from me. In the end, she will be hurt and confused and scared. In the end, she will talk to the Institute about your interactions with her. In the end, she will not want to lose what she has to be close to someone she barely know. In the end, she will be allowed to live her life, free of interference from The Institute. In the end, she will be glad that she has someone to offer her comfort. She will be glad that she has someone there she can trust. She will be glad that this is done The problem with lying is that the longer you let it go on, the harder it is to tell the truth. What started out as something you just weren’t sure how to say, becomes a mountain of untruth - a series of things you chose, over and over again, not to tell. Your body must be sore. This is good. Your arms and chest must get used to being sore. Or maybe after one session in the Lab, pain is relative and you feel nothing. Are you breathing? Are your lungs two lakes? You may lower your body to the floor and breathe. In. And out. You have reached the end of cassette two, in your Extensive Studies Preparation. Feel the scar along your abdomen, above the cave which is below your left ribs. The scar will be different the next time you hear my voice. The creature that lives in your cave remembers more than you think it does. Prepare your body for endurance. Make sure you can breathe under physical duress. Breathe quickly. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. You have completed cassette two of the Extensive Studies Lab Preparation Program. Please deposit this cassette in the Property Return Slot at 10pm. Before moving on to cassette 3, think about why we lie, sometimes. And what we can do to earn forgiveness. END SIDE B Category:Transcripts